She bit her lip and felt her shoulders tense at the thought. Once Benjamin married, she would be alone. Her mother would not live forever, nor would the other women in Jacob’s house. And she was not close to any of her brothers’ wives.
The hobbling footsteps of her father pulled her out of her wayward thoughts. She looked up once more. “Abba,” she said, smiling as he entered the women’s work area.
“Greetings, Jacob,” Leah said, laying aside her shuttle and rising. “Let me get you a cushion and something to drink.”
Jacob waved her offer aside. “I did not come to stay,” he said, giving her a look of mild affection. Dinah knew that her father would still favor Rachel had she lived, but he seemed to have made peace with Leah and spent time with her when the others were off doing other things. She often saw them together when she took Benjamin to Joseph’s tent to nap.
“Why did you come then?” her mother asked, arms akimbo.
“I would like to speak to Dinah, if she can walk with me for a few moments.”
Dinah let the shuttle slow, surprised at his request. “I can come, Abba.” Though she was a young adult, the childhood endearment lingered.
“Good.” He moved away from the enclosed area.
Dinah put the weaving aside, glanced at her mother, who seemed deeply puzzled by her father’s request, then hurried to catch up with him.
They walked to the same copse of trees where she and Joseph had spoken. They stopped beneath the shade of a spreading oak. Jacob turned about and faced Dinah, searching her gaze.
“What is it that you wanted, Father?” She was shorter than he was by a handbreadth, so she tilted her head to better read his expression.
“I have a favor to ask of you. It is to be kept quiet for now. I don’t want your mother or brothers or the concubines or your half brothers or even the servants to know about this yet.” He ran a hand over his beard as if nervous.
Dinah nodded, wondering what could possibly need such secrecy. “What is it?”
“I want you to make a cloak. You are as good a weaver as your mother, and no one weaves better cloth than she does. She has taught you well.” He paused, his gaze skipping beyond her.
“Is this for Benjamin?” If it were, why keep it a secret? The women wove tunics and cloaks and undergarments all the time.
“No,” he said, looking down at her again. “It is for Joseph. It is to be a coat woven in many colors. I have had some of the finest wool set aside for this. I’ve wanted to have it made for him for a long time.” His expression was earnest, yet she could not tell the reason behind the request. Each of her brothers already had a robe with his own color woven into a wide stripe and a matching one in his sash and turban.
“Why make Joseph’s coat so different from that of his brothers?” Her brow furrowed, and she crossed her arms, feeling the faint hint of a chill though the air was warm. “What’s going on, Father?”
Jacob rested one hand against the tree trunk and moved his staff to better steady himself. He normally twisted his body in this way when his hip ached. Was their conversation causing him pain?
“If you do not want to do this for me, Dinah, I understand. I will find a servant to do the work.” He looked disappointed, and she couldn’t bear to see the sorrow in his gaze.
“I will do it. Just tell me what you have in mind.” How she would keep this a secret from her mother, she did not know.
He smiled and nodded. “Very good. Thank you. This is what I want.”
He proceeded to give her detailed instructions, which she pondered as she helped him walk back to his tent and then retrieved Benjamin from his nap. Joseph’s coat was to have every color worn by her brothers and half brothers? Even Benjamin’s? The thought deeply troubled her. The work would be tedious, as the dyeing process alone would take days for a single color. She would need twelve colors, one for each son—Joseph included.
Her heart beat faster as she headed toward the women’s area, where she sat Benjamin to “help” her mother. He played with the wool left over from what she was now spinning into thread.
“What did your father want?” her mother asked the moment Dinah stepped beneath the awning and settled in front of her loom again.
She glanced at her mother, then focused on the weaving, unable to think straight. She must pick up the shuttle and begin again, or the tunic would never be finished in time to make the robe her father wanted.
“Dinah? Did you hear me?” Leah’s tone carried concern rather than censure.
“Yes, Ima. Abba wants me to make a cloak for him.” She flicked a gaze at her mother and then Benjamin, who gave her a toothy grin. She returned it and picked up the shuttle to work.
“Your father has a perfectly good robe. And why wouldn’t he come to me with such a request? I am his wife!”
Dinah’s heart pounded as she thought of what would happen once she finished the cloak and her father gave it to Joseph. When her brothers saw his favoritism and the way such a colorful robe would put Joseph above each one of them . . . what then?
6
Joseph took a circuitous route toward Elkan’s tents, purposely avoiding the sheep and goat pens, where he could hear his brothers calling the animals to follow them. Since he began working with the chief steward, things had not improved with his brothers. If Reuben still attempted to bring some reconciliation or at least respect from them, he had failed, for the only attitude Joseph perceived from them was thinly veiled animosity.
He walked past the women’s work area, where he spotted Dinah dipping wool through a hole in a stone tool into a baked earthen barrel of bubbling dye. He stepped closer, and she looked up at him.
“Shalom, Joseph,” she said as she stirred the wool. “How are you this bright day?”
“I am well, my sister. Thank you. And what are you making?” He stepped close to the barrel and peered inside, but the liquid was too dark to tell what color it would be.
“I am dyeing wool for a coat Father asked me to weave.” Her brows scrunched as though she was concentrating.
Joseph nodded. Father had a coat, but perhaps he intended to sell this one. “What color is that?” He pointed to the dye.
“This one is from the henna plant and should come out the color of red orange if I got the dye dark enough. I have already dyed piles of wool.” She inclined her head toward several baskets behind her.
Joseph walked over to look at them. Red, turquoise, blue, several shades of green, and a distinct white not the same as the sheep’s own color. “These are colors my brothers wear. How many more will you dye?” He bent down to examine the wool. “This looks like the wool Father set aside for some special occasion.”
“Yes,” Dinah answered, still stirring the hot liquid. She lifted some strands to check the color and pushed them beneath the dye once more.
Joseph stood and walked back to her. “It looks like you are almost finished with the dyeing.” How many more colors did she need?
She shook her head. “No. I have yet to do brown and purple and a few others. It is tedious work to find the plants and prepare the dyes.”
“Then you have to spin the dried wool.” He smiled at her. “I have watched your mother work since I was a small boy. I know this is a big job Father has asked of you. But why did he ask you and not your mother?”